by Rae Matthews
Now She-Ra on the other hand, there’s a girl you could have some real fun with. Grab a bad guy and defend your homeland from the forces of evil. Anything was possible, and anything could be a bad guy. The cat who’s trying to take a nap in the living room and runs from you every time she sees you ever since the whole kiddie pool incident of ‘99 (which shall never be spoken of again), the glass of water you just spilled could be a flood coming and you must save the Oreo cookies from certain death, and so on. I think Emma will love it, and will also maybe realize that Barbie is just a dumb, blonde bimbo.
As I pull up to Rudy’s, I see Bash and Emma sitting at one of the picnic benches. She was smiling and laughing, and looks so cute with her long, blonde hair, naturally highlighted with a hint of copper and little ringlets on the ends. I really want to throw up; I have no idea what to say to her. Hi sweetie, sorry I yelled at you on the phone before, and I hope we can be friends, because I’m in love with Bash, and since you come as a packaged deal, it’s kind of not an option for us not to be.
I feel really bad for thinking this way. I chalk it up to nerves, and tell myself to get over it. I see Bash looking around, presumably for me. He checks his watch and looks up and around again before he finally spots me. He smiles excitedly and waves me over. I slowly reach to turn the ignition off in my car, as if the five extra seconds will somehow change how I’m feeling.
As I get out of my car, I reach for the gift that I wrapped four different times to make sure it looked perfect. As I close my car door and hit the lock button on my key fob, I plaster a big smile on my face and start to walk over to the picnic table they are sitting at.
“Ok, here I go. Time to finally meet Emma. No turning back now,” I say quietly to myself.
As I get closer, Bash stands and jogs over to me. He must see that the smile on my face is forced, and tries to put me at ease.
“Sasha, everything is fine. Emma is very excited to meet you, and has talked about nothing else since I told her about you today.”
“Then why do I feel like I’m meeting your mother?” I responded, gritting my teeth to keep my smile on.
Bash lets out a small laugh, grabs my hand, and escorts me the rest of the way. For fear I may run, perhaps? As we approach Emma, she gets up and runs over to us, giving me a big hug.
“Is that present for me?” she blurts with a big smile as she eyeballs the small box.
“Yes it is, I thought of you when I saw it, and hope you like it.” I respond to the question in my best I’m talking to a kid voice.
“Can I open it now?” she pleads to Bash and I.
I smile and nod at her. As we sit back down at the table, I hand Emma the gift and watch her carefully open each corner with such care. I try to tell her that I wasn’t going to save the paper and she could just tear right into it, but Bash shyly interrupts and assures me that this is how she likes to open gifts.
As She-Ra is finally free of her shrouded cage, Emma looks at her with confusion. As if she was expecting a Barbie and had no idea what to do with this weird chick in her mini-skirt and plastic sword.
I jump in, feeling the need to defend my hero to Emma. “Her name is She-Ra, and when I was your age, I used to watch a cartoon about her and play with my own She-Ra doll. I thought you might like her. She is my favorite.”
She stares at it for a moment, still not saying anything. I look over at Bash, and he grabs my hand, giving me a smile and a nod. I wait as Emma looks over the box, and then a hint of a smile comes out.
“Thank you, Sasha. Bash, can we watch She-Ra when we get home?” she asks him.
I breathe a sigh of relief. She likes it!
We proceed to order our food, and talk about school and her friends and her grandma. You know, your basic seven-year old conversation. Nothing too gripping, yet we were having fun. Emma tells me a few knock-knock jokes, and I pretend that they are funny.
After lunch, Emma turns the conversation to me, asking me things like, how old was I, did I have kids, where did I live, (and was my apartment big), and did I have a job. I smile and answer all of her questions, keeping the answers simple and on her level. After awhile, Emma asks Bash if she can have a root beer float. Bash agrees and motions to me that he will go inside to get them for us, smiling. I try to shake my head no, and give him the look of death, but before I can say anything, he’s up and gone.
I look back at Emma, expecting to see a happy little girl who is about to get some ice cream, but instead I see a frowning face, arms crossed like a little she-devil.
“Listen here, ‘cause I’m only gonna tell you this once. Bash is mine, you can’t have him, so you should just move on, lady.” She scolds me, but in her cute, little girlish I want to be tough but I’m really not voice.
My jaw drops, and I can hardly believe what I just heard. Did she really just say that? And here I thought this was going to go poorly.
I smile and turn to face her, laying my hands on the picnic table in front of me as I lower my head to her level. “Well, I think that we can share him. He has enough room in is life for both of us. I’m not stealing him from you, just borrowing sometimes.” I state calmly, in a kid-friendly voice, making sure to keep my smile front and center.
“I don’t want to share, he’s mine! He will see that he doesn’t want you,” she snickers back.
What a little actress we have here. Smiles galore in front of Bash, making him think that she likes this new turn of events, and then bam. The truth comes out. Touché, little girl.
“Well, I think that Bash is a big boy and can make his own choices. I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon, so you’d better get used to me.” I respond as I sit up straight. I need to show this little girl who’s boss.
“Oh yeah? We will see about that.” She smiles and turns to see if Bash is coming back. “I may only be seven, but I know Bash, and he will always pick me.”
I look up to see Bash coming back with three root beer floats. Emma has just enough time to put back her super fake, I’m having fun smile. She looks over at me and gives me the fist in hand jester behind Bash’s back. Fuck, I think this kid has been watching way too many of the wrong kinds of movies. Is this my karmic revenge for being such a bitch?
THE NEXT DAY I CALLED Megan and Sadie over for a bottle of wine. Or maybe two or three. Some of our best and worst ideas have come from a few good bottles of wine. I describe my encounter with the seven-year old she-devil, and after the belly laughter subsides, they both put on their big girl panties and try to help me figure out what to do. I mean, she is seven freaking years old. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? If it were some chick moving in on my guy, I would just tell Bash about it, we would have a good laugh, and the next time she made a move on him, she would get a verbal bashing from me and possibly a drink to the face.
But how does one compete with a seven-year old? After many hours of thinking (and drinking), we finally decided that I will be an adult about it and just let her throw her little tantrum, all while I ignore it. Bash will figure out what she is really up to on his own. Well, he better, because I sure as hell can’t tell him. Our little lunch date looked perfect to him, and he would no doubt take her word over mine, considering everything she has been through.
After a few hours and five glasses of wine later, I get a text from Bash.
Bash: Hey beautiful. Having fun with the girls?
Sasha: Yes, we are just about to have a naked pillow fight. Wanna come be the ref?
Bash: Then who would video tape?
Sasha: Tri-pod, better hurry the tops just came off.
We laugh and giggle like we are twelve at the conversation, and try to think of what to tell him next when there is a knock at the door.
As I open the door, I half expect to see Bash standing there. Instead, I see a flower delivery guy holding a small vase with daisies and yellow carnations.
“Delivery for Sasha Michaels,” he says.
“That’s me,” I slur in response.
&
nbsp; He hands me the flowers and whishes me a good day. I close the door, paying more attention to the flowers and snatch the card out of the plastic holder. Megan and Sadie run over as I set the vase on the kitchen counter and peek over my shoulder at the card.
My god, she is good. She must have asked Bash if she could send me some flowers. I slowly look up from the card and gaze at Megan and Sadie.
“Wow.” Megan states, clearly in shock.
“Well, maybe she had a change of heart?” Sadie suggests optimistically.
“I’m gonna guess not, but that would make my life so much easier.” I say, still looking at the card when I hear my phone ping, telling me that I have a new text message.
Bash: Well I would love to join you but I’m at work. Just thought I would say hi
I stop for a moment to respond. I must be an adult. I must be an adult, and I cannot let a little girl get to me. She is young, and has no idea what she is doing.
Sasha: HI!!! Did you know that someone special sent me flowers? She is so cute, I love the flowers!
Bash: Oh good, you got them. She wanted to say thank you. She picked them out herself. She also asked if when she spends the night at my house next weekend, you could come over too.
Sasha: Oh I would love to. I can’t come Friday night I have to work; I can come Saturday when I get up.
Bash: Just come after work on Friday, I will make breakfast Saturday morning for us.
Sasha: Ok, it will be late. I’ve got to go now my glass is empty.
As I toss my phone to the side, I wonder how I can get Emma to understand that I’m here to stay and that I have no intention of letting a little girl push me out of the best relationship I’ve ever had. Along with the best sex I’ve ever had.
The night continues on with my besties and me, as we open a few more bottles of wine and round out the evening with a game of truth or dare. We already know most of the truths, so we mainly just do dares. We kept it pretty G-rated in the beginning, but as per usual, we slip into R-rated soon enough.
We try on my lingerie and take pictures, sending them to our respective boy toys, asking what they would do to us if they were here. Were we to look back at the text messages, it would be clear that we’re drunk. I’m actually pretty proud of the guys for deciphering what the hell we are talking about. I’m sure they didn’t give a shit; they got naughty pictures sent to them.
At about midnight, we are all getting really hungry, so we call for a pizza delivery. That turned into a dare gone wild. When the pizza delivery guy arrived, my dare was to convince him to take me to the grocery store for Funyuns and Reddi-Whip. At first, he wanted nothing to do with us, other than to get his money for the pizza. But after some fast-talking, the next thing I know, I’m in his car, on our way to the store. I think he thought he was gonna get more than money for a tip out of the deal, but that obviously wasn’t gonna happen.
After retrieving my requisite items, he rushes me home, where I promptly squirt some Silly String that I had hidden in my purse at him. He did not laugh, although I sure as hell did. There may have been some profanity tossed my way as he drove away, but I didn’t care. I rushed back up the stairs and slam my door, locking it behind me. Good thing I paid him an extra twenty before we left, or the price may have gone up when he found out he wasn’t getting anything more than some cash.
The next dare was to try and eat as much Reddi-Whip as we could in 30 seconds. Between the excessive laughing and chasing each other around my apartment, squirting the cans at each other, we slip on our asses several times as we step in piles of it all over the floor. I don’t think we actually ate much of it at all. At one point, Sadie was running towards Megan and I yelling, “Here, kitty kitty, you want some milk?” Don’t ask me what the fuck that was all about.
By two o’clock in the morning, we were covered in whipped cream, Funyuns, and whatever else was in my kitchen that could be used as ammo in a food fight. There may or may not have been lime green J-ello in there, and it that may or may not have been shoved down Megan’s pants while she screamed, “Leggo my jello!” Again, I have no freaking idea where that came from. I’m guessing it must have made sense at the time.
The next morning, as we all start to wake up with what seems to be dried cream, Jell-o, and who knows what else was all over us and my apartment, the events of the night come back to me. We have not had a crazy night like that in a long time. We must have really needed it.
As I pick up my phone and check the damage done via drunk texting, I see it.
Bash: looks like you’re having a good time
Sasha: Would be better if you were here with me to lick me clean
Bash: Sorry there beautiful as much fun as that sounds... and I would lick every inch of you until you were clean and then I would.... well I will leave that to your drunken imagination. But I can’t, I’m at Jean’s with Emma
Sasha: Oh the little she devil, I bet she is plotting her next move against me.
Bash: What????
Bash: What are you talking about????
Bash: Ok, I’m gonna guess that you are so drunk that you have no idea what you’re talking about so I will just talk to you in the morning about it.
Fuck a duck at Christmas. Great, now how the hell am I going to explain that? Well, at least I can blame it on the wine. And at least I didn’t call Emma and bitch her out again.
FRIDAY ARRIVES, AND WITH IT comes a sense of dread for my sleepover with Bash and Emma. I had cleared up my little text message snafu by claiming we had been talking about people at the bar, and it got all jumbled up in my head with the massive amount of wine I consumed. He laughed it off and didn’t bring it up again.
I suppose that could have been my chance to tell him what had happened at Rudy’s. Still, I wasn’t going to let a little girl make me look like a tattle-tale to my boyfriend. I mean what was I really going to say? Emma’s being mean to me, make her stop? Yeah, that would go over like a fart in church.
When I got to work, I was surprised to see George sitting on his favorite stool. I clock in and walk over to greet him.
“Hi George! I’m so glad to see you. Bit strange to see you here on a Friday night, though,” I observe with a big smile.
“Bash told me you were working tonight, and I thought it was about time I came in to apologize for my rude behavior that day.” He says, looking me straight in the eyes.
“Oh George, don’t you worry about it. I’m just sad it took you this long to come back in here. We’ve missed you on Sunday’s.” I try my best to assure him that there are no hard feelings between us.
“Thank you, Sasha. I still feel awful about that day. I guess this is what it means to get old. Your friends and family die off, they take your driver’s license, and then you get to just hole up at home hoping, Jeopardy is on.” He says, looking down at his beer.
I’m not sure what to say to make him feel better. I’m sure it’s hard for him, and I’m sure that I will be his age some day, feeling the same way. I sit and talk to him for awhile, listening to stories about his wife and kids. Things he used to do in his younger years. All of it just makes me feel sad for him. He is such a great guy, and still has so much to offer.
As the bar gets busier, he asks me to call him a cab to take him home, since Bash is with Emma. When the cab arrives, I walk him out and give him a big hug.
“You’re a sweet kid. You and Bash make a cute couple. I hope you will be around for a long while.” He says with a wink while getting into the cab.
“Aww, thank you George. I hope so, too.” I give him a kiss on the cheek and close the door, giving a wave as the cab pulls away.
The rest of the night goes by pretty fast, with little action. Friday nights are hit and miss as far as the entertainment factor goes. Sometimes there could be a guy-on-guy fight, or a blind date gone wrong. Tonight there is not much of anything. I’m kind of disappointed; I could use the distraction. I keep thinking about my overnight with Bash.
I wonder if
it is really ok for me to be spending the night, knowing how Emma feels about me. I should have said no, I should have made up a reason why I couldn’t spend the night. What did Emma really want? Was she just being a little girl who doesn’t like change, or is she really that devious that she would try and break Bash and I up? Who knows. But the bottom line is, why am I worried about a kid?
As I announce last call to the crowd, I can feel my stomach start to churn. The fried cheese and chicken wings I ate were probably not a great choice for dinner; unfortunately, it’s too late now. I start my closing check-list and even stall by doing some of the opening shift’s duties to avoid leaving the bar.
By 3:00am, Bash is calling to make sure I’m ok. I tell him I’m fine, just running late and promise to be there soon. This will be the first time I’ve ever been to Bash’s house. He had kept me away because he has a room there just for Emma, and didn’t want to have to explain it before he was ready to tell me the truth about who Emma was.
As I drive, I think again that I should just go home and tell Bash that I’m not feeling well. I just want to sleep in my own bed after a late shift. Is that too much to ask? I figure that if I tell him I’m sick, then that would just make him want to take care of me, and he would tell me to come over anyway. Then I resign myself to the fact that there really is no point to fighting this, so I just keep driving towards his house, and before I know it, I’m parked out front.
I look over and see the light is on in the window. He is up waiting for me, I assume. I see his head pop out the door and wave me in. Shit, it’s too late to leave now. I don’t know why I’m letting this little girl get to me like this. Inside, it’s Bash and a little girl. A three foot five inch little girl. I’m a five foot six inch adult. What can she possibly do to me?
I shake my head as if to snap myself out of the weird dream I’ve been living lately. I jump out of my car, grab my overnight bag, and spring for the door, where I give Bash a giant, full-on passionate kiss. You know, the kind that would normally lead to the bedroom. However, he backs off after a few seconds, taking a deep breath.
